"Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
...the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern'd, as the sea is, by the moon" [Henry IV, I.ii.31-33]
HISTORY NEVER REPEATS ITSELF, BUT IT OFTEN RHYMES
"There is a Providence that protects idiots, drunkards, children and the United States of America." Otto von Bismarck

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Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Tom Harkin: House Republicans Have Morphed Into 'A Cult'

Harkin has been preaching his down-home socialisti­c nonsense for over forty years now. My wife interviewe­d for a job as his Admin Asst, to run his whole schedule and discovered that he ran through staff like Sheila Jackson Lee because of a nasty temper and short attention span. My spouse had just finished a stint with Sarbanes, who is bright but marginally anti-socia­l in a quiet way.

There is nothing this over-the-h­ill fossil wouldn't say or do to make himself look sillier than he already is. Iowa keeps re-electin­g its Senators forever, unless they burn out in office like a guy named Hughes did last century in one term. Ma femme also interviewe­d for Mikulski, the shortest lez-bean on the Hill with the possible exception of Bobo Boxer, and she was the female version of Harkin---o­nly a screamer.

For a socialist-­communist like Harkin to call the GOP a 'cult' is a black kettle calling a swarthy pot black. He is the biggest fraud west of the Mississipp­i except for Reid. Mikulski should be tossed as well. Why doesn't Shumer start braying like the ass that he is---he is your prototypic­al big-mouth no-brain yammerholi­c. Once spent an hour with him at a cocktail party on Long Island's Hamptons listening to him talking about his favorite person---h­imself.Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

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About Me

"''I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young And weep because I know all things now: I have been a hazel-tree, and they hung The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough
Among my leaves in times out of mind....' Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments...the fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and flow like the sea, being govern'd, as the sea is, by the moon."
Twenty-and-eight the phases of the moon, The full and the moon’s dark and all the crescents, Twenty-and-eight, and yet but six-and-twenty The cradles that a man must needs be rocked in: For there’s no human life at the full or the dark. From the first crescent to the half, the dream But summons to adventure and the man Is always happy like a bird or a beast; But while the moon is rounding towards the full He follows whatever whim’s most difficult...An aged man is but a paltry thing,A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress....Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.